


Fan Service

by OctoberSkies



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Celebrity!Dorian, Celebrity/Fan AU, Fan!Varlen, M/M, Modern Thedas, One Shot, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 12:43:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8402188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctoberSkies/pseuds/OctoberSkies
Summary: Varlen Lavellan was just muddling his way through another dull shift at the cafe when his celebrity idol, Dorian Pavus, casually sauntered in...(Celebrity/Fan AU one-shot, filled for a tumblr prompt).





	

Varlen couldn’t believe it. He was _right there_. So close that, if he wanted to, he could reach out and touch the hem of his shirt. Smell his cologne. Experience the sharp corners of his moustache. _Creators have mercy..._ He thought in horror. _I am not prepared for this._

It was an odd feeling, seeing someone he had idolised for so long standing a few short paces away. A part of Varlen was convinced it was a dream. It had to be. What if Dorian looked at him? _Spoke_ to him?

 _Oh gods,_ Varlen thought, trying to force down his panic with a sharp swallow.   _I might actually faint. Or worse. What if I say something stupid? Shit, I’m definitely going to say something stupid. This is bad. Maybe I should run?_

Dorian Pavus. _The_ Dorian Pavus. Varlen had seen all of his movies – read his autobiography from cover to cover. Six times. _Last year_. Maybe slept with it under his pillow a few times. But he wasn’t _obsessed_. His walls weren’t papered with pictures of the man or anything. There was no candle-lit shrine. He just admired him. _A lot._ Admired his work, and the name he had made for himself across Thedas. According to Dorian’s autobiography, it had been a hard, long road for him to get to where he was. According to Varlen, Dorian had earned every piece of success he had achieved, despite what his critics said.

And he was standing _right in front of him_.

 _He won’t even notice me,_ Varlen thought, trying to calm himself. _It will be fine. Wait, should I say something to him, then? No. No, I don’t want to bother him. He probably has to put up with people fawning over him all the time. I—_

“… Hello? Anyone home?”

Varlen blinked, his mind snapping back to the present like a rubber band. Dorian was looking _directly at him_ , those grey eyes digging a hole in his soul and filling it with pure disbelief. Immediately, Varlen’s heart took up a frenetic rhythm, and for a second he thought he might make good on his fainting comment.

“Y-Yes?” Varlen replied, staring. It was as though the dark haired man was standing in a spotlight. The rest of the café seemed distant – out of focus. Dorian raised an eyebrow, and for a second Varlen swore there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. Or maybe it was just his imagination.

“Excellent – you _are_ awake! Tell me, what is your name?”

Varlen’s mouth suddenly felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. It was the desert of Seheron. The desolate dunes of the Western Approach. Cracked as the mighty tundras of…

“M-my name’s,” Varlen began, but suddenly drew a complete blank on everyone and everything he was. He panicked. “...  _Dorian!_ ”

Dorian paused. Varlen froze, his mind reeling, trying to catch up with his mouth.

_Wait… what the hell did he just…?_

“N-No, wait, shit,” Varlen hurried, his cheeks already bright red but somehow growing even hotter. _Damn it, I knew I’d say something stupid!_ “I’m not Dorian - _you’re_ Dorian!”

The dark haired man was regarding him with a thoroughly entertained expression, as though Varlen’s floundering was a private show, just for him to witness and enjoy. Well, him and everyone else at the café, although it was mercifully quiet. _What was he even doing at a dump like this?_ Varlen thought, his mind running in circles, chasing its own tail. _He’s Dorian Pavus! He could eat anywhere - probably for free!_

“Ah, _yes_ , thank you,” Dorian said, voice dripping with faux sincerity as he folded his arms and cocked his head. “I have a rather dreadful habit of forgetting my own name. The reminder is _greatly appreciated_.”

“Varlen!” Varlen blurted out, wanting to die. To sink into the floorboards and never return. It would be okay. He could make a nice life for himself, living in subterranean caverns. Surviving off moss and cave water. The sun was overrated. Who needs it, really?

Silence followed. Stretched. _Oh Creators, please… show me mercy and turn me into a toad or something_ , Varlen pleaded silently, lips still parted from his outburst, blue eyes wide with disbelief at both Dorian’s presence and his own social ineptitude. _If he thought I was a toad pretending to be a person, at least I’d have an excuse._

“I… take it that is _your_ name, then?” Dorian said slowly, his lips still miraculously quirked into a half-smile. Varlen groaned, reaching up to rub at his flushed face. _He thinks I’m an idiot. I don’t even blame him._

_I **am** an idiot._

“Y… Yes,” Varlen said, trying to breathe. To focus. There was no redeeming himself, but he could at least try not to make things worse. “I’m… _so_ sorry, Ser Pavus. I just—”

“Adore me in every possible way?” Dorian interjected, raising a hand to inspect his nailbeds theatrically. “Ah, yes – let me guess. You have seen all of my films, correct? Recorded every red-carpet appearance, catalogued every outfit. What else… ah! Your favourite role of mine was that of Don Le Tuce in _Orlesian Nights_. You even possess a limited edition signed copy.”

Varlen opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wasn’t… _wrong._ But there was a definite sharpness to Dorian’s voice that gave Varlen pause, despite how the man tried to mask it with indifference. Swallowing, Varlen made a gamble. It was stupid – pointless – to try to repair the damage he had done. Dorian had just wanted to get a coffee and be left alone, more than likely. But no, he had to run into Varlen. _Bumbling, stupid Varlen._

“A-Actually…” Varlen began hesitantly, but even that brief hint of dissent seemed to peak Dorian’s interest. He dropped some of his arrogant façade, and fixed Varlen with a curious look. “I um… really like your autobiography,” Varlen continued, his hands trembling behind the counter. _Stop talking stop talking!_ “The way you write… it’s really _powerful_. I mean, n-not that you acting isn’t too! That’s not what I—”

“A moment,” Dorian interrupted, raising his hand to stop Varlen mid-ramble. “You… _read_ my autobiography?” Both of his brows were raised in an expression of sheer disbelief. The sight of it stunned Varlen. _Of course he did! How could that possibly surprise him?_

Varlen nodded eagerly. “Yes! More than once.” _So so many times oh gods save me._ He swallowed, sobering up a little as he took a deep breath. “The chapter where you talked about leaving home for the first time… it actually helped me a lot when I first came here. It was relatable, y’know? You didn’t make it sound like some grand, perfect adventure, which is what I thought it was meant to be. I thought there was just something wrong with me, but you felt the same way _._ Lost. Scared, even…”

Varlen trailed off, knowing he’d already said too much and miraculously forcing himself to stop. But his babbling seemed to give Dorian pause. In fact, the man watched Varlen with a kind of slow, quiet regard. Thoughtful. _Curious_. Varlen could feel himself starting to sweat. He’d said something wrong again. He just _knew_ it.

“I… am glad, Varlen. Truly.” Dorian said finally, and the softness of the words surprised Varlen. The man cleared his throat gently. “It is important to me too, you know. That autobiography. I still believe it was something I needed to do, no matter how much my agent at the time scorned me for it.” He met Varlen’s gaze and, for the first time, Varlen didn’t feel faint. Despite its briefness, there was something so honest about the look they shared. “Not many people have even heard of it, yet alone _read_ it. Of course, they have claimed to, but could never seem to recall anything from it. Unlike my other work, my book wasn’t promoted. I did not paint myself in an entirely _favourable_ light, as you well know.”

“But… that’s what makes it real, isn’t it?” Varlen asked, feeling like he needed to comfort the man for some reason. The man who had everything, according to Orlesian tabloids. Oddly enough, doing so seemed to calm his own nerves in the process. “It’s hard to look at ourselves – our lives – and admit that we’re not perfect. The fact that you did, and did it publically… well, it’s admirable.”

Dorian snorted quietly. “ _Foolish_ , perhaps, if my previous agent is to be taken at her word.”

Varlen was already shaking his head. “I don’t think it was foolish at all. Actually, I… I think you’re very brave.”

Varlen wasn’t sure why he said that. It was the truth, but it wasn’t something you just say to someone from across the counter of a cheap café. Someone you’d really only just met. Dorian, it seemed, agreed with the sentiment. He was silent for a long while, not even looking at Varlen. He seemed almost… distant. Thinking. Had he insulted him by accident?

Just as Varlen was about to launch into another stumbling apology, Dorian looked up. Met Varlen’s eye... and _smiled_. Warm. Genuine. Grateful.

There were so many pictures of him out there, but Varlen had never seen Dorian smile like _that_ before.

“I think, perhaps,” Dorian said slowly, reaching into his pocket, all the while maintaining eye-contact with Varlen. “We should meet each other again, some time. In a less restrictive circumstance, what with you working and me dodging paparazzi. Persistent lot, that.”

 _Ah_ , Varlen realised. _So that’s why he chose this dump—I mean, café. They’d never look for him here._

“I’m… sorry?” Varlen asked, confused. Dorian laughed, still smiling to himself, as though amused by a private joke.

“Very well – straightforward it is, then.” He leaned in, resting his arms on the counter. Varlen could count his eyelashes if he had half the mind to. “I am asking you on a _date_ , Varlen. If you wish.”

If Varlen’s jaw could have dropped to the floor, it would have. But, as it was rather firmly tethered to his skull, it just hung open for a few seconds in utter disbelief. Dorian, with a quiet chuckle, reached up and, placing a finger beneath Varlen’s chin, coaxed it shut. The gesture felt so shockingly intimate, but at the same time, _comfortable_. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for both of them.

“Am I to take that as a _yes_ or a _no_?” Dorian asked, leaning away. Then, he extended two fingers elegantly. There was a small piece of paper held between them. Varlen stared at it dumbly, but could still make out the rather obvious string of digits. A… phone number?

_Was this really happening?_

“That depends… am I going to wake up in a second a feel really disappointed?” Varlen asked. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had a dream like this. Dorian Pavus, showing up at his crappy job, offering to take him out. Although, admittedly, Varlen was usually a lot more eloquent during his personal flights of fancy. As it was, he sincerely doubted he had dazzled Dorian with his wit and charm.

“Well, I certainly hope not,” Dorian replied with a laugh, then waved the piece of paper gently. “Otherwise I fear we’ve been trapped in a little pocket of the Fade together, sharing a peculiar slice of _unreality_. A bit unnerving, if one thinks about it.”

Varlen laughed too, nodding. It was mostly a nod of relief. His subconscious would have _never_ come up with something like that. Dorian’s reputation of being a scholar before his career in film was clearly more than a rumour. Varlen glanced again at the piece of paper.

_Creators… this was real. This was really happening._

“Yes, it would be,” Varlen agreed, then reached out to take the paper. His fingers brushed Dorian’s briefly, and Varlen swore a spark of _something_ passed between them. Then again, Dorian was a mage, so he might have just zapped him for dramatic effect. Who could really tell? “Then let’s uh… do this. A date, I mean. I want to. With you.”

_Oh just shut up Varlen **please** shut up…!_

However, even as Varlen cursed himself, Dorian’s face lit up in a dazzling smile. Warm, amused, and even a little bit fond. When he spoke, there was a kind of quiet reverence to his words.

“Well then… _excellent_. Do contact me once your shift is over, yes?” He levered himself off the counter, eyes bright. If a simple look could melt a man, Varlen would be a puddle. “This will do nicely. I rather need something to look forward to, these days.”

“Y-Yeah…” Varlen murmured, more to himself than Dorian, who had already raised a hand in farewell and walked away by the time Varlen had composed himself. He felt like he’d been struck by lightning, welded to the spot. His while body _buzzed._ With excitement or terror, he didn’t know.

The only thing he was acutely aware of was the small piece of paper, clutched protectively in his palm. A piece of paper – so small, so insignificant, but suddenly so important.

It was kind of how Varlen felt. He smiled, and tucked it safely into his pocket.

“… _Me too._ ” 


End file.
